Page 117 of The Boy I Loved
If I’d ever done half the shit Tristan did, Clay would have killed me and disposed of my remains a long time ago without a second thought. But because Tristan came from an equally as fucked up family and reveled in the darkness that had blossomed within him, Clay adored him.
As soon as I reached the basement, I hurried down the steps. The scent of piss and death wafted through the air, overwhelming my senses. It didn’t matter how often I’d been down here, I never fully got used to the smell.
We’d gotten a few new girls in last night, their whimpers growing louder and louder the closer I got to them. Opting to ignore them completely, I entered the chamber at the end of the room. Ionly had a few minutes to spare before Azriel and Vincent showed up for basement duty.
Flicking on the light, I crept to the back of the room, sidestepping an array of random sex machines and things of the sort.
I typed my code in on the panel connected to the wall and waited for the familiar green dot to appear. Nervous energy prickled along my neck, my heart beginning to race with the fear of being caught. I only had one shot to pull this off.
Finally, the green dot revealed itself. I reached for the door handle and jerked it open, practically diving inside the room. Weapons adorned each wall—guns, knives, batons, whips, tasers, num-chuks. The list went on and on. Blowing out a breath, I reached for one of the pistols, my gaze skimming over the delicate design. Checking the magazine to make sure it wasn’t empty, I clicked the safety switch and forced the gun into my waistband, tugging my shirt and jacket over it.
Adrenaline pulsed through my blood in waves. This could end so fucking horribly if I wasn’t careful. But Hazel was worth it. She’d always be worth it.
I hurried back the way I came, making sure everything was the same as it was before I’d entered. A brunette in one of the cells peered at me through the bars with teary, brown eyes. I held a finger up to my lips, making it abundantly clear that this was to remain a secret. She didn’t acknowledge me, but I hadn’t expected her to.
When I got to my room, I sat down on the edge of my bed and lowered my face to my hands. My breathing was erratic and messy, my thoughts clouding my mind.
I might have played the part of the bad boy well, but in reality … I was fucking terrified. My head was all screwed to hell. Every part of me had been violated—mentally, physically, theoretically. Hazel was a fool for loving me, fortrustingme. But her loyalty only made me want her more, and that was both a good thing, and a very fucking bad thing.
She was angry with me now. But she still loved me. I could see it in her eyes, even when she hurled insults at me. It didn’t matter what these people did to her; it didn’t matter what I did to her … She still cared.
A lump formed in my throat as I reached for the weapon that was currently digging into my hip bone. Tugging it free, I held it in the palm of my hand.
I had to put my plan into motion tonight while everyone was sleeping. Well … not everyone, but almost everyone. It was the best chance I had—the best chance Hazel had.
Fuck.
People were going to die tonight. I just hoped it wasn’t me or my girl.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
HAZEL
My body achedin ways I’d never thought possible. My thighs were raw from constantly rubbing together, my muscles were weak, and my vagina was swollen and itchy. I hoped to God it was just a yeast infection, because the alternative would be so much worse. If one of these fuckers gave me an STD, I’d go ballistic.
My fingers twitched with the urge to scratch, discomfort settling into every crevice of my body. I was fucking miserable.
Sleep didn’t come easily. I was up half the night tossing and turning. Agitation wormed its way into my system after my third attempt of trying to get some damn rest. Who knew what these assholes had planned for me in the morning.
Sighing, I shoved the comforter from my body and threw my legs over the side of the bed. As soon as my feet connected with the cold floor, the door to my bedroom creaked open.
My heart leapt into my throat, fear punching through me. A sliver of light bled into the room from the hallway, casting the mystery person in shadow.
“Tristan?” I whispered, knowing he was usually the only one who came to see me with the exception of Mason a few days ago.
“No,” the voice growled in a low whisper.
Goosebumps prickled along my skin, a shudder rolling through me. My breathing was so erratic, I feared he could hear it. The men in this place were like vipers. The scent of fear was enough for them. They got off on playing with us as much as they did harming us.
The floor creaked beneath his weight as he moved closer, his voice dropping even lower than before. “Slide a pair of shoes on and come on,” he ordered, the smooth baritone of his voice pulling a chill from me.
Not Tristan. “Dominic.” I breathed out in relief.
I was hit with the sudden urge to run to him, to ball my hands up in the front of his shirt and tug him close to me. It was a momentary lapse in judgement with all things considered, but he’d always been my safe place.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered into the darkness, uncertain of where he now stood.
“Do as I said,” he hissed. His voice was much shakier than usual, only adding to my unease.
